


The Story of Fandral and Sigyn

by lightsway



Category: Norse Mythology, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsway/pseuds/lightsway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sigyn was lost and has unknowingly taken refuge in the abandoned city of Dale. After nearly half a year, she is stumbled upon by a stranger who wants fame simply by stealing from the dragon in Erebor. </p><p>A Middle Earth AU with no real connection to any canon LotR or Hobbit characters, only places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story of Fandral and Sigyn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BombshellKell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BombshellKell/gifts).



> After seventeen years, I'm finally rereading The Hobbit. In the first chapter, they really go into how empty the city of Dale is, and I started to wonder what it would be like if someone, a random wanderer, happened to take refuge there. This is ultimately what the story ended up being, and though I'm by no means an action kind of writer, I'm really happy with how it turned out :)
> 
> I tagged this as both Marvel and Norse because Sigyn's character comes from both, but Fandral is strictly Marvel.
> 
> Also to note, my Sigyn generally has Emily Browning as her FC, which is why she is continually referenced to be short.

Sigyn had been counting off the days that she had been hiding away in this city. She had just reached one-hundred and eighty-nine days, and she still had yet to see anyone else, be they human, dwarf, elf, wizard, or even a small hobbit. All she had seen were some animals and plants, both growing more and more present as the winter months receded and the land found summer.

She was small for an elf, though she was fully grown, and oft she was teased that her hobbit-esque stature (though she truly was taller than a hobbit) was the reason for her inability to commune with nature the way an elf was innately supposed to. That is, she was teased before she had decided to leave. A spirit journey, she had decided, would be the best way to hone her spirit with nature. And yet, she had become lost along the way.

Somehow she had found herself here, in an abandoned city, the walls scorched with burns long past, and she wondered what sort of fire this city had been ravaged by to leave it so desolate and empty. Many of the homes had been burned down, and on her various treks through the streets, she had found the remains of a market, a pavilion, places for groups to gather, and others for the inhabitants to remain solitary.

Inside the houses that had escaped the blazes was tall furniture, too tall for a hobbit, and Sigyn guessed that this had been a human city. In her days and nights here, she tried to recall the name of the place, perhaps some of its history, but she could not seem to remember. This may have been one of the lessons she had chosen not to pay attention to, and she hoped that wasn’t a fact that she would later regret.

She had made a temporary home in one of the small houses tucked deep in the heart of the city, and she spent half her time there. Many books had been strewn about, and she spent much time reading them, but they seemed mostly books for children, and they were unhelpful to her other than for a bit of light reading to pass the time.

The rest of her day she spent sneaking through the city. Though it was warm with the weather, and flowers bloomed in cracks in the walls, and animals chased each other through the streets, there was an eerie feeling about the place, a feeling that it was being watched, so she was sure to be careful as she wandered and explored.

Food was, surprisingly, easy to come by. Much of it had spoiled, but there was plenty more that was made to hold through many years, and she brought much of that back with her as well, keeping it neatly in the small kitchen of the small house. She was also adept with a bow, and she could stalk prey through the streets and make herself a decent dinner at night.

She was a long way from home, yes, and it felt strange having no one around, no one she could talk to or share ideas with; yet at the same time, it felt oddly relieving to be away. Despite the odd feeling around the city, it was like a breath of fresh air to stifled lungs that had long since been muffled by teases and taunts. She was her own master here, and the wind and flowers and the warm sun never made her feel sad because of who she was.

While part of her yearned for her home with the other elves, she had never felt freer than she did here. Which is why she had reached one-hundred and eighty-nine days, and still she had not ventured much past the walls to try and find her way home.

 

* * *

 

Midnight passed and as day one-hundred and ninety began, Sigyn heard a shuffling outside the door of the small house. Her eyes shot open and as quietly as possible she slipped from the bed and crept through the shadows. The animals were usually still at night, and this sound wasn’t that of hooves or paws or claws; those were the distinct sounds of clumsy human feet, well-trained throughout the years, but still clumsy to her elf ears.

She hid deep in a shadow and listened, her hand closing around the small hunting knife in her boot and drawing it out, ready to defend herself should she need to. The rustling continued, and soon the sound of the door being unlocked from the outside, a soft click, echoed softly through the room, and rang in her ears. She quieted her breathing as much as she could, her limbs as still as if she were made from stone.

The door opened with barely a whisper of sound, and there was the soft click of boots on the floor. The house was dark, and from the light outside, she could only see a silhouette at first. It was a man, taller than her, and of a broader build. He carried a sword with him, held at the ready; his skill was obvious. He turned to look around, and as he did, his hood cinched back, allowing the moonlight to cast into sharp relief the contours of his face, sharp cheekbones adorned with facial hair, and the briefest glint of blue eyes before he looked away and she saw only his silhouette again.

He was beautiful, for a man, if a man could be described as such. He didn’t walk with the grace of the elves, but he held himself with the pride of a king, even if noble blood didn’t run through his veins. She had long been taught not to be caught in the whimsy of romantic notions, but something about him drew her to him, akin to that of Beren and Luthien. Though to equate anything she was feeling to the immortal love of Luthien and Beren felt almost sacrilege.

The man, convinced he was alone, lowered his blade and turned his back to her, and she chose that moment to pounce, as swiftly and quietly as a cat on a mouse, she pushed him to the floor and held her dagger to his neck. “How came you by this place?” she snarled in his ear, and was surprised when he simply laughed.

“Though I appreciate your stealth, m’lady, you are much too small to be trying to pin a man of my stature.”

A slight against her height! She pressed the tip of the dagger to his skin, applying pressure though not enough to draw blood. “And yet you are at my mercy, or have you not yet taken account of who, exactly, is lying trapped on the floor?”

In mere moments, he had somehow flipped their positions, though he had pinned one of her arms with his hand, the other with his knee; he pressed his body against hers, and his other arm was pressed beneath her neck. Just a bit more pressure and he could cut off her breathing.

Angrily, she kicked, using momentum from her hips to knock him sideways, though he kept a firm grip on her wrist, pulling her with him, and when they settled again, her knife was to his throat, and his blade was to her belly.

“A spry one, though,” he commented with a smirk, his blue eyes glittering playfully in the moonlight. After a moment, his face turned thoughtful, and he reached up as if to touch her ear. “An elf…my lady, you are certainly a mystery among men. So small, yet with the grace and power of one twice your size.”

With a scowl, she stood up straight, as tall and proud as she could make herself, and pulled her hood up over her head to conceal her ears. “Perhaps we could discount by height for now, and you could answer me my question: How came you by this place?”

The man simply laughed as he stood again, and despite her annoyance at him, she thought his laugh sounded musical, deep but infectious. “If you believe yourself hiding in an obscure place, you are very wrong, lady elf. This is Dale, the city that stands on the front of Erebor, kingdom of the-“

“Dwarves, yes, I am aware,” she snapped, frowning slightly. The realization of where she was finally hit her, and she felt her stomach clench. “What brings you here? If you have knowledge of the place and know of its story, why would you come?”

“I could ask the same of you, lady, but it seems you were entirely unaware.” He was teasing her, that much was obvious.

“Have you come to slay the dragon, then?”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “Hardly. That is for the dwarves to do should they ever decide to do so. No, I am simply here to make fame by stealing a simple treasure from said dragon. Something of dwarven make from the mightiest dwarf kingdom to wear about my neck and flaunt my bravery. Perhaps I shall steal two pieces, something to sell and make my fortunes. I’ve got my eye on a bit of land I would like to live on.”

For a moment, she couldn’t decide if he was telling her the truth, or if he was speaking purely in jest. Her lips parted slightly in surprised when she realized he was being serious. “You are a fool,” she said with a shake of her head.

“A fool perhaps, but a fool who will live out the rest of his days in comfort.”

He was stupid, a complete idiot, and he would surely get himself killed, going into a dragon’s lair and trying to steal its gold. That dragon would have counted and memorized every piece it owned, and should a piece go missing, it would know. He had to know this; everyone knew the story of the dragons. So there had to be another reason. “What is it you covet besides a life of luxury?” she asked, her voice softer and without an edge.

He stared hard at her, then turned away, and why he spoke next what he did, she did not know. “My mother abandoned me after my father died. She left me to the streets with the parting words that I was not good enough.”

And even stranger, she supposed, were her next words, barely thought upon in the silence after he had spoken. “I will help you, if you will have me.” Always her safety had come first; her protection, her anonymity in a deserted city. And yet now she was pledging her help to a man she had never met, whose beauty had simply enchanted her. “I am deadly with a bow, and my prey never leaves with its life. I cannot claim to be able to fell a dragon, but should it come after you, I will try.”

He looked back at her again, that playfulness finding his eyes again. “And you claim me to be the fool.”

“At least one of us should live, to tell of their other’s bravery. Or complete lunacy.”

“Then we shall go tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

They walked quietly through the streets, both of them trying to be as silent as possible. Sigyn did not know the range of a dragon’s hearing, but she wanted to take no chances. When they reached the exit to the city that lay closest to the mountain, she stopped and turned to him. “I will wait here, on the wall, and watch your back. If I whistle-” She demonstrated a whistle that sounded like a bird call, “-it means there is a danger I cannot help you with.”

He looked at her and nodded, giving her a grin. “Off I go, then, to emerge with riches and an account of heroic bravery that few can speak of.” He started to pull his blade from its sheath at his waist, but then stopped. “Perhaps a kiss for luck from the fair maiden who so foolishly guards this fool?”

Perhaps it was his charm, or that glint in his eye, or that musical laugh of his; or perhaps it was his rugged nature, or that wounded pride he walked with that he tried to hide; or even that he had been the first to find her after so many days alone, even if it was accidental. Whatever the reason, her heart seemed to beat a bit faster, her stomach danced, and, perhaps this was another of her romantic whimsies, but in her mind, she knew that, should he die, she would never love again.

She looked into his eyes and nodded, and where she expected a soft kiss as one elven lover would give another, his lips pressed firmly against hers, his facial hair scratching her lips and nose and chin, and his arm wound itself around her to pull her in close. When he finally let her down, she felt as if he had stolen all of her breath. “Good luck,” she managed to say in a hushed tone, and she couldn’t help but smile when he grinned down at her and pulled his sword out.

 

* * *

 

Watching from her perch on the wall filled her with much more anxiety than she could ever have anticipated. Every step he took made her cringe, thinking he should have gone a different way, stepped differently, avoided that twig. She would have wished she was with him if she hadn’t known where he was heading. Although her nerves ate away at her, she kept her bow drawn taut, ready to unleash at anything that would be a threat to his path.

The minutes passed slowly, the summer sun beating down on her from overhead, but still she stayed at the ready, her limbs prepared for anything. A rustling in the grass, felled by her arrow, turned out to be a large rabbit. Ah, well, dinner.

Carefully he picked his way across the landscape, and with each step, she felt herself becoming more and more nervous for him. She took out another rabbit, and a small fox-like animal, but it wasn’t until she felt a deep rumbling in the earth that she felt like something was wrong.

He knelt down at one point, studying something on the ground, and when he stood, he held something that flashed gold in the sunlight. He pocketed it, and she thought he would return, but instead he stood and continued forward. “Fool,” she muttered, and swept her gaze around. The deep rumbling sounded again, and she focused on it, trying to determine its source.

The man knelt again, and another piece of gold was slipped into his pocket. “That’s your two pieces, now come back.” She wished he would hear her, though she spoke quietly, but he continued onwards.

Again, the ground shook, and she focused hard. With a jolt, she realized it was coming from the abandoned kingdom. The dragon. Quickly she let out a series of whistles, loud enough that he heard, and as he looked back at her, she gestured for him to return. When he started to run back, still occasionally stopping along the way, she hurried down from her vantage point on the wall to meet him by the entrance.

“Hurry!” she called to him, and as he reached her, sliding into her arms, there was a deep growling from the kingdom. “Hide, quickly! Anywhere!”

Together they ran, his hand finding hers even though she was in no danger of falling behind, and they threw themselves into a dark recess in the wall, shadowed even in the sun. He made her get in first before climbing in after her, holding his arms around her and shielding her with his body and cloak. A mighty roar sounded, chilling Sigyn to the bone, but she didn’t tremble with fear. She simply stayed quiet, listening as the dragon grew agitated, but neither of them moved.

After a time, he shifted to be more comfortable, but he did not let go of her, nor did she ask him to. The dragon had surely smelled the man, and yet could not find trace of him. The thought of the dragon tracking the scent to their hiding spot had her holding him a bit tighter, but there was truly nothing more they could do.

Many hours passed and the sun set on the city before the dragon grew quiet again and Sigyn dared to speak, her voice still hushed. “That gold you found, will it work?”

With a grin, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out five pieces of large gold coins, and her eyes grew wide. She did not find allure to the gold itself, but what it represented. He had come, and he had gotten closer to the dragon than many had, and though he did not go inside, he still had evidence that he had been there.

On a whim, she leaned in to kiss him again, the roughness of his lips against hers giving her almost as much of a rush as the proof of his adventure did. “You will be a true legend, surely. Your name will be sung along with the mightiest of heroes.”

He smiled and stroked her hair as he pocketed the coins again. “One to keep as proof for the stories, and the rest to sell to buy some land and a nice house.”

“You will be happy for life.”

“I would be happier if I had a beautiful elven archer to help ensure the safety of myself and my land. And to, perhaps, help keep a cold house warm.”

She rolled her eyes at him in a way her father oft scolded her for, but smiled back at him. “I would be delighted to.”

“Perhaps…I could find some happiness in knowing your name, as well.” He backed out of the crevasse they had found themselves in, and held out his hand for her to take as she emerged behind him. “I am Fandral, ex-citizen of the kingdom of Gondor.” He bowed his head.

“I am Sigyn, a lost elf of Rivendell.” She bowed her head in return, but looked up when he kissed her hand.

“Come, Sigyn of Rivendell. Let us begin our lives anew.”

She nodded, unable to keep from smiling. No matter what anyone would think, she thought she had an idea of the love of Beren and Luthien, for she was convinced she had found her Beren.


End file.
